Eilidh shook her head and closed the door.
Birdie sighed and turned to go.
She delivered the second basket to the reverend’s wife, who was grateful to receive it. There, too, she asked whether she could help with finding domestics. Mrs McAloy was more talkative than Eilidh.
“That will be a challenge, Your Grace. The old duke was none too popular. And the new one…” Her voice petered away. “People are afraid. Which is nonsense, of course. My husband says he’s a perfectly normal man. Despite his—you know.” She gestured with her hand to one side of her face. “He’s a recluse, though, and that doesn’t help. The people look on him with mistrust.”
Birdie nodded. “What about the old duke? What was wrong with him?”
Mrs McAloy’s face darkened. “He was an evil man. Bled the people, and the land, dry. He let the estate degenerate and now it is as you see it. The people here are poor. They have no fondness for neither old nor new duke.” Her face softened as she looked upon Birdie. “But you seem to be a sensible young woman, Your Grace. Forgive me for speaking familiarly, but you remind me of my daughter. It is kind of you to have delivered the baskets. The people here receive little kindness. God bless.”
Birdie pondered on Mrs McAloy’s words on her way back to the castle. She took a small, pebbled side-path that wound itself up the mount where the castle perched. Turning around, she saw the village nestled underneath. On the other side, the ocean stretched in front of her, calm and blue. She inhaled a big breath of fresh salt air. Life wouldn’t be too bad here, if they’d give her a chance to settle.
She heard quick footsteps and laboured breathing behind her. Birdie whirled around. It was Eilidh.
“Your Grace.” Eilidh reached her and halted, panting. Her eyes flitted back furtively to check if someone was there. Then she continued, “My sister can do it. Be yer maid. She’s worked fer a lady fer seven years. She’s clean. Can take care of a lady’s wardrobe, do her hair and all else. And I can sew. I used to be a seamstress before I married Logan, and he brought me here. I also ken someone who cooks real well. And I know some girls who’d love to earn a penny or two cleaning.”
“Eilidh, that is wonderful.” Birdie clasped Eilidh’s rough hands between hers.
“The problem is, miss, I mean, Yer Grace, that the men cannae know. Especially mine.”
“Well, that’s bound to be a problem. Whyever not?” Birdie frowned. They desperately needed money, yet they wouldn’t let the women work. How so?
Eilidh shook her head. “That’s the condition on which we can work. We can do it fer a certain time only during the day while they’re out at sea. An’ we’ve got bairns.”
Birdie nodded slowly. “The village school?”
“Nae teacher. The school master’s left after a tiff a year ago because no one could pay him.”
Birdie patted the woman’s rough hands.
“Don’t you worry about the children. I’ll make sure they’ll be taken care of. Bring whoever is willing to work tomorrow morning.”
“Yes ma’am. Yer Grace.” The woman bobbed her head, bowed, and ran back down the hill.
Birdie’s brain set in motion. She returned to the castle feeling that she had accomplished something that day.
Chapter 10
“Your Grace, we’re being invaded!” Higgins, who never rushed, ran, or spoke loudly, managed to do all three, startling Gabriel so that he dropped the figure he was holding in his hand.
“Whatever is the matter, Higgins?” his master asked.
“Women!” The man leaned a hand against the wall as he gasped. “The castle is invaded by women.”
Higgins must be delusional. Maybe it had been too much for him to take care of the girl, but how one girl could multiply into many was beyond him. Gabriel watched with concern as Higgins wheezed and gasped for breath.
“You shouldn’t be running. Not even during an invasion.” Gabriel picked up the figure he’d been painting and set it down on his table.
Higgins gestured with his hand to the door. “I’ve never experienced anything like it. Come and see for yourself.”
Gabriel crept stealthily down the corridor as if approaching an unsuspecting enemy.
Indeed, there were noises in the main hall that sounded suspiciously like a gaggle of women. Was his wife holding a tea party?
He stopped on the top stairs, went down to his knees, from there lay on his stomach and peeked between the wooden bars of the baluster. It was in the same manner he’d lain in the ridge near Hougoumont and observed Napoleon’s troops approach. From this point, he could gather intelligence without being seen.
Except these weren’t Napoleon’s troops. It was something worse. They were women, indeed.
